“He has gone mad of course,” Sean Maher said.
“Would that we were all so mad,” Flynn added.
“True, ’tis true,” they all chorused with murmuring voices lost in thought.
“Jimmy Grogan, you’ve not said a word,” the Hagan remarked. “What says a nasty little piece of work like you?”
The young man’s eyes brimmed with tears before he spoke. “He told me I didn’t have to be a nasty little piece of work. He said I was made of sterner stuff and that the world expected more from me and that it was time I started to deliver the goods.”
“Good advice. Perhaps we have all underestimated our Mr. Blessing, eh?” Moira said quietly.
“Aye, perhaps we have, but I’ll not underestimate him again. I believe he is blessed or mad or both,” Father Fahey said for them all.
Moira Hagan sat and studied the group closely. Their thoughts ran in similar veins. She could see those thoughts mirrored clearly on each face. Each finished his drink slowly and left the pub lost in a private world of thought and emotion.
“Doctor?”
Ailís Dwyer looked up and then looked around the nearly empty pub. The landlord continued to clean glasses and put them away. Moira Hagan was seated directly across from the doctor.
“You’ve run into Mr. Julian have you not?” the Hagan asked.
“I have and if called on I would have made something up. I could never tell the truth of what he said.”
“There are only we two now.” Moira looked concerned.
“Like the others, he told me the contribution I was making made a difference in the lives of people, but he went into detail – great detail, very great detail. He knew things he should not have known. He had individual examples and he covered each in turn.
“There was something compelling about what he said and the way he said it that forced me to listen. His voice was so soft I had to strain to hear him. He wasn’t just being honest or sincere though. It was as though his life depended on what he was telling me. When he was done, I felt wrung out, shell-shocked. I was exhausted, but he wasn’t.”
The doctor continued. “He looked into my eyes as though he could see clearly into my soul. His eyes – those soft, deep-set, warm, gray-sky eyes mesmerized me. I couldn’t look away from him. I tell you I was paralyzed. I couldn’t have moved if I had wanted to.”
The doctor went on more slowly. “I’m sure you wouldn’t believe it, but he told me he cared a great deal for me. Then he just smiled, took both my hands in his. At his touch, I could feel some kind of shock, yes an electric shock, that was it. He looked at me for a full minute. His smile was so gentle, so, I don’t know, intimate, tender. I don’t think I drew a breath for the whole time.
“Then he turned and went on his way. He left me standing there literally speechless. And there was something more, something odd. When he let go of my hands, I could hardly feel them. There was this strange gentle, almost tender tingling sensation. I looked at them and my hands were shaking. I can’t explain that. I can’t explain any of it. I’ve not been so shaken in my life. I was moved and stunned and frightened and touched and honored and could hardly breathe all at the same time.
“Do you think he is crazy?” the doctor asked.
Moira patted the doctor’s hands, “Perhaps he has lost his mind a little,” she said at last, “but I believe he has found something far more important and so have we.”
Each woman sat and reflected on all that had been said and thought and felt. They were silent and still for a long time. The clinking of Francis Mulherin’s glasses as he put them away was the only sound that marked the passage of time.
Moira recovered herself first. “Let’s talk about you, shall we? Ailís, do you mind if I give you a prescription?”
The doctor gave a puzzled look, but said nothing.
Moira smiled kindly and with a gentle knowing voice continued, “I want you to go home. Darlin’ you have an aching inside of you. ’Tis an ache you have carried for too long. You need to go to your room, get comfortable and, well, do something about it. You know what to do. It will only be a temporary fix, but it will hold you for now if you keep at it.”
“What?” Ailís Dwyer shook her head and began questioning if not her sanity at least her hearing.
“What? What! What are you saying? I have no idea what you’re talking about. Are you mad too? No, the whole world has gone mad!” The doctor was flushed, but the color rose higher and she found her face burned and her breath was coming in shorts shallow gasps.
“I have no idea,’ is it? Well then do an old woman a favor, would you?”
Ailís was mistrustful. Her ears felt absurdly hot. “What is it you want then? But I’ll not have any more of your conclusions regarding my personal health. My very personal and very private health, mind you Moira Hagan.”
“It was sheer poetry the way you put it. The Irish are a poetic lot, don’t you think? Tell me again about his – what did you say – ‘soft, deep-set, warm eyes like the color of a gray sky?’ And I believe you mentioned he left you with a, what is it you said, yes – a tender tingling. Tell me again about the gentleness and the intimacy you shared with that man.
“You just think about that when you see to yourself, eh lass.” Moria’s lips broke into a small perceptive smile. She had struck home with the doctor and both of the women knew it.
Ailís let out a quiet, staccato high-pitched moan and her face tightened. “Enough, I have a practice to attend to. I’m sure I don’t know what you are saying and I don’t want to know. Best you leave it before you embarrass yourself further.”
“Embarrass myself, is it? It isn’t I who’ve begun to sweat like a draft horse – yes, just there on your lovely forehead. It isn’t myself whose face and neck look to be about to combust at any moment. ’Tisn’t I who is losing her mind with need.”
With that, the doctor launched herself to her feet. She felt her legs would fail even as her pulse raced and a wave of lightheadedness washed over her. She clutched the table and straightened herself.
It is difficult at the best of times to look dignified while seeking any solid object for support. For Ailís Dwyer this was not the best of times. Her attempt at a majestic exit was stunningly unsuccessful.
Moira Hagan smiled and her eyes were on fire with mischief and then her thoughts turned to Julian. The distance between mischief and malice is very short.
On unsteady legs, the doctor made her way to her office. She climbed the stairs to her bedroom above the examination rooms. She closed and locked the door, then crumpled onto her bed. The doctor panted as she struggled to breathe and closed her eyes willing her head to clear without success.
The young woman rolled onto her side and doubled over with a sustained whimper and an acute longing to be touched, to be caressed, to be held, to be wanted. Ailís Dwyer could still see him. Soft, deep-set warm gray eyes… a gentle tingling... intimate…tender… shared… That was the thought Ailís held in her mind as she found the relief she so desperately sought.
***
Julian was returning from what he viewed as a very productive if somewhat peculiar interview with the Squire. For his part, the Squire thought it somewhat less satisfying. He would say in the future, this was the day Julian Blessing became unhinged.
Julian was feeling light and refreshed. He seemed to be attuned to every breath of wind, the movement of every tree branch, the rustle of the leaves beneath his boots. Before he rounded a bend in the road he knew Moira Hagan would be waiting for him. He felt she was troubled. What he should have felt was that she was about to trouble him.
“Hello,” Julian shouted as he waved at his teacher sitting on a large bolder. She said nothing.
“Are we brooding a bit today?” Julian asked.
“Brooding is it? Not a’tall. Brooding is something one saves for those times when things are unsure. I am feeling quite sure just now. I am sure in fact that I gave a very simple assignment to an eejit and like any go
od eejit he carried it off like a most excellent eejit would!”
“What?” Julian said shocked. “I thought about what you said and I took your advice and now you are berating me for it!”
“Blessing, you went at this like a job of work. If I weren’t such a lady I would simply smack you in the gob and have done with it.”
“I still don’t understand.”
“That is the only – I repeat the only – reason I have not cuffed you,” Moira snarled.
“That and your being a lady of course,” Julian added.
“Tempt me not, Blessing. I can change my mind at any moment, you great bloody fool. I gave you work that would nourish your spirit, feed your soul and you went at it like a construction gang. Did you have to run through the entire village like a dose of salts? Did it all have to be done in one day? I am only surprised you didn’t try to work ’em all before early mass!”
Julian came back hard. “Hey, you are the one who said I had a unique perspective that people needed to hear and that I had a short time to get my affairs in order – or words to that effect. ‘If it were done when ’tis done, then ’twere well it were done quickly.’”
“Lovely and an appropriate quotation, little man, but you may remember that was Shakespeare’s Macbeth, plotting murder. I had something a little less ghastly in mind,” the Hagan said with some heat.
“…” Julian said.
“Ahhh…” Julian said.
“Err…” Julian said.
“Oh. Well, perhaps I could have approached this a little differently.”
“You mean differently from leaving your fellow citizens feeling as though they had been run over by a train?”
“Well, yes.”
“Odd as it may seem, even through your own unique, blisteringly stupid way, you seem to have accomplished what needed to be accomplished.”
“Oh, thank you,” Julian said. “What is it that needed to be accomplished again?”
“You were overcoming fears, transcending other people’s expectations and ideas about you.”
“Well, good for me then, right?”
“Oh, yes, you did indeed face at least one fear that I know of. You were afraid of not being known. Well boyo, it would be safe to say you are known now. It would also be safe to say you have transcended other peoples’ expectations too.”
“Terrific. I’ve been a success.”
“Oh yes. And aren’t they all quite sure you are mentally disordered and therefore capable of doing the queerest things imaginable at the oddest times possible? Oh yes, people know you all too well now.”
“Oh. Hmmm. Someone told me the villagers think I am pleasantly strange. I rather liked that term. You think they’ve changed their minds about that?”
Moira’s hand went to her forehead and she snorted, “What do you think, ya eejit?”
“Not the success it might have been, eh?”
Moira Hagan drew a breath and let it out slowly. “Not quite. But we can work with it.”
Chapter Eighteen
Tom Lynch, hardened, tall and broad shouldered with a barn coat and a cloth cap stood in front of his employer’s desk. He had worked hard all his life. He feared none, liked few and respected the thin Pale Man not at all.
“Why is it you and your people will down tools at the slightest provocation?” the Pale Man asked.
“We was caught out by one of the local farmers. He happened upon us while we was at it and there ‘twern’t anything for it, but to make ourselves scarce,” Tom Lynch said.
“A farmer? Do I have this correct? A farmer frightened you and all your men away?”
“You told us we were not to be seen. He must have been waiting for us he was on us that quick. Still, we got away ’afore he sawed anythin’.”
“Ah, but you have already been seen.” The Pale Man took one of Julian’s wanted posters off his desk. “You’ve been seen and now people are looking for you. A dirt-poor farmer runs surveillance on his property and manages to nearly capture you and your lot. For the love of God, you are pathetic.” The Pale Man held up his hand and said, “Enter” a moment before his servant knocked and announced another visitor.
“Oi came as soon as I got your honor’s message,” Liam McMaster said as he rushed into the room.
“Do not take another step,” the Pale Man said slowly. He looked beyond McMaster to the open door behind the farmer. “You, boy, step to where I can see you.” Bobby McMaster sullenly lurched into the doorway.
“What is that?” the Pale Man said through gritted teeth. The man’s anger was palpable.
“Ach, that’s just me boy. Bobby, say hello to his honor.” The boy glowered and said nothing.
“Bobby, that is your name, correct?” the Pale Man said with a plastic smile. The boy said nothing. “Well, Bobby, get out or I will kill your father.” The boy shrugged.
Liam was thunderstruck. Tom Lynch suppressed a smile and looked away. The Pale Man said, “So much for filial loyalty, eh McMaster?”
The Pale Man’s voice was hard and low, his mouth twisted into a hideous sneer, “Bobby, get out or I will kill you.” The boy shrugged again, turned and left. He closed the study’s big door with a bang and sat in a nearby chair in the hallway.
“McMaster, you are truly unbelievable. You brought your son here. Here! I trust you will make it perfectly clear to that little animal the consequences of any lack of discretion. Up to now I’ve not cared if you lived or died. I am starting to rethink all of that and it’s not looking good for you.” The Pale Man shook his head and said, “Back to business. I believe I was about to give you both a good bollocking.
.
“I think we were talking about neither of you being so much men as rabbits, running away at the slightest noise. Maybe I am not providing the proper motivation. Perhaps you are not the right men for this job, eh?” The Pale Man rose and paced in front of the cold fireplace before he sat in one of the wingback chairs flanking the hearth, crossed his legs and steepled his fingers.
“What do you think? Is there a reason I should keep you on?” he asked.
“Oi would keep meself on, your honor. Oi have value,” McMaster said.
The big man snorted. He stood just off the carpet and with a flinty look in his eyes said, “Me and me men we’ll get the job done. You needn’t fear on that account. The American can paper the moon with posters if he wants, it won’t bother us a’tall.”
Tom Lynch sneered as he watched the Pale Man and considered snapping his employer in half should the disrespect continue much longer.
Emboldened by anger Lynch said, “Now if we can be pointed in the proper direction rather than spend our time digging away at one dead end after another…” He let the statement hang in the space between them.
The Pale Man smiled maliciously and then rocketed to his feet.
“I plan and you dig. It is a simple division of labor. I think and you do.” His face reddened and he continued. “Most of all though what you never do is question me, my plans, my motives or anything about this operation that does not concern a spade and dirt.
“You, McMaster are even less beneficial to my cause, but I live in the hope you will someday get your thumb out and do something useful.” McMaster cowered.
The Pale Man went on, “I want to make certain I am perfectly understood. I pay you to do what I tell you to do. Your rabbits do as you tell them to do because I suffer to pay them too and because you are supposed to put the fear of God in them.
“If I want them to turn over all the turf in Ireland that is what they will do and you will make sure they do it or I will find someone who can. Do I make myself perfectly clear?” The Pale Man was shaking with rage and his voice was raised.
“I will now give you both a new task. I require you and your men to spread a little terror in our little part of Ireland. I do not want to put too fine a point on this, but it seems I must.
“If you chance upon someone or they happen upon you, now follow along,” th
e Pale Man taunted, “I want you to maim that person. Badly. I want you to continue this policy until the general population stops seeing fit to disrupt my activities.
“Please, understand this applies equally to men, women, children, priests, nuns, the lot. Burn the village if need be. Is any of this sinking in? Don’t look stupid, McMaster, this applies to you as well.”
Big Tom Lynch said nothing. His knuckles ached for the opportunity to mutilate his employer. McMaster nodded his agreement with the plan, although he was unsure of what the plan was exactly.
The Pale Man continued. “You may not think it amounts to much, but those two idiots in the village, Maher and that American, have plastered nearly the entire county with these handbills. I hear reports they are circulating more widely than that. I do not need this distraction. Employ that amount of violence necessary to stop further interference with my plans.” The Pale Man was pacing and shouting. His face had nearly taken on some color.
“I want this valley to ache. I want people to suffer. I want this part of Ireland to get what it deserves.”
“What it deserves?” Lynch questioned. He did not look so much puzzled as wary.
“That is what I said! I will have what is mine. Kill anything that gets in your way,” the Pale Man screamed. Servants in the hall outside stopped what they were doing then resumed their duties more quietly and elsewhere. Bobby McMaster, however, had a ringside seat.
The Pale Man stopped pacing. He took several deep breaths and tried to gain control of himself. He turned and smiled. McMaster took the smile as a positive sign. Tom Lynch went to an even higher level of alert.
“Gentlemen,” the Pale Man said, “we will be finished soon. We will then evaporate like fog. The American will have questions without answers and little else – if he is still with us. We will stop as quickly as we started and we will all be far wealthier – that is if I can get you two to do your part.” His smile lacked warmth, humor, pleasure and fellowship. It was a smile that wasn’t.
Echoes Through the Mist: A Paranormal Mystery (The Echoes Quartet Book 1) Page 18